Deceiving Evil: Blood Bonds Series: 2
by trystan830
Summary: When Dean and Sam kill the former consort of a very powerful master vampire, planning revenge cannot be sweeter for Maya. But she overlooks one very important thing: Dean Winchester. please read CHOSEN first!


**Title:** Deceiving Evil  
**Author:** Trystan  
**Rating:** mostly the same as the show; language, innuendo  
**Category:** General  
**Characters:** the Winchesters; and some originals. (credits at the end)  
**Spoilers:** my fic, Chosen; takes place Season 1, before "Shadow."  
**Notable Credits:** thanks to Diamondback, who was really the catalyst of some of the plot devices in this fan fiction. Maya gave me the plot, but it was Diamondback who helped mold it. Title inspired by Lady Aurora.  
**Summary:** When Dean and Sam kill the former consort of a very powerful master vampire, planning revenge cannot be sweeter for Maya. But she overlooks one very important thing: Dean Winchester.

_**Deceiving Evil**_

The thing I treasure most in life cannot be taken away  
There will never be a reason why I will surrender to your advice  
To change myself, I'd rather die  
Though they will not understand  
I won't make the greatest sacrifice  
You can't predict where the outcome lies  
You'll never take me alive  
Disturbed, ©2005

* * *

PLEASE READ CHOSEN FIRST!!!

* * *

The night was cold, and the fire warmed the brothers as they watched it burn. Solemn-faced, they watched as the object – a vampire – was consumed in the flames. The fire burned for a short time before going out, and Dean stamped some of the embers out with the toe of his boot. Sam scattered the ashes around the site, making it look like a large campfire had been there. 

Task done, the town's vampire problem solved, the Winchesters returned to Dean's Impala and headed for the motel.

And not all that far way, closer than either of the Winchesters could have imagined, a master vampire wept for her loss – the man who had been her lover for several centuries. Although they'd been apart for over a century, his death was felt in her very bones. It shook her to the core. And she _knew_ who was responsible.

* * *

Dean Winchester was not a city guy. They'd grown up in the college town of Lawrence, Kansas, true, but they were in the suburbs, in the quiet, not over-crowded outskirts. Dean liked people well enough, especially the ladies, but it was the congestion and the pollution, and the whole, well, city, he just didn't like. 

But now, here they were, in the middle of the business district of a bustling city, checking out an interesting situation. Dean and Sam were looking at Rosecrest Cemetery in the middle of a sprawling business park with Trevor Robinson, the foreman of the construction project that was supposed to be taking place there.

Trevor, a weathered man in his mid-50s, was one of John Winchester's many contacts in the city, and he knew well-enough when it was time to call John. John's voicemail had directed Trevor to call Dean. And now, Trevor was explaining his situation to Dean and Sam.

"It's like this – the First National Bank is paying us a huge bonus to put their bank _here_." Trevor pointed to the vast tract of land covered with the gravestones. "So we need to move the cemetery. Yesterday. Trouble is, each time we go to exhume a site and move the body, weird shit happens."

"What kind of weird shit?" asked Dean.

"Tools missing, machinery moved, headstones _re_moved…"

"Sounds like spirits, all right," Sam suggested.

"I knew it was something weird enough, which is why I called you. Well, your dad. Where is the old man, by the way?"

Dean and Sam exchanged looks.

"He's off on his own gig at the moment," Dean offered, not really telling Trevor much.

Sam went over to some of the stones, and knelt down next to one, studying it with interest. After a moment of his own surveying, Dean told Trevor he'd be right back, and joined his brother.

"So what do you think, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Angry, restless spirits, not wanting to be relocated," Sam said standing up. "Needs more research," he suggested.

"I could talk to Trevor, see if he knows who the bank bought the cemetery from," Dean said.

"I'll check online for the history of some of these graves," Sam offered. "We passed an Internet Café I can check out a few blocks back."

"I'll meet you at the café tonight then, and compare notes." Dean said. "About 7:30?"

"Sounds good," Sam said, starting to walk toward the car. Dean reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

"Remember our backup plan. In case some weird shit comes _our_ direction," Dean said softly.

"I remember," Sam said, recalling to mind their elaborate scheme they put together some time ago for when they were separated, and one of them wasn't back at or near the appointed time.

Sam retrieved his backpack with his laptop out of the back seat of the Impala and slung it over his shoulder. Giving Dean a thumbs-up, Sam walked about five minutes along the sidewalk in the business park to one of the newer sections, where there was a coffee shop/internet café.

Going inside, Sam surveyed the tables, and saw a seat in the back corner at a desk featuring just the internet cable cord. At the counter, he told the kid working there that he needed to be online for a few hours.

Sam hooked up the laptop at the table and positioned himself facing the door, on alert for Dean. Logging online, he entered several search strings, until he obtained a listing of those resting at Rosecrest Cemetery. He searched each of these names in turn, saving anything interesting to the hard drive. He was just starting another search when he sensed a presence at the table.

Looking up, he saw two tall, broad-shouldered men, wearing suits and sunglasses. Sam rubbed his eyes and looked down at the clock on his computer. It was only 6, but he'd been there for three hours already.

"The master needs to see you," one of the men said. His voice was calm, quiet, and told Sam he better come with them.

Sam floundered. He stood up, and gestured to his computer.

"Uh, can I – ?" He sat back down to get the backpack, and stood again.

"The master needs to see you now," the first repeated in the same voice. "and would prefer you come willingly.

"Oh, uh…" Sam started to close his computer.

"Now." The voice held a threat that Sam would preferred was not carried out. The younger Winchester knew something big was going down, and for whatever the reason, he was somehow in the middle of it. Evil just seemed to be drawn to them.

* * *

Dean knew something wrong the moment he stepped into the café at 7:30 that evening. He didn't even have to see the laptop that was still open on the back table to know. He sensed a presence he'd encountered twice before. Once, he was the chosen target. The second time, hell they'd just wrapped up the job the other night. A vampire. An old and powerful vampire. This one's presence made the hair on the back of Dean's neck stand on end. 

Dean couldn't explain how he was attuned to a vampire's presence. He wouldn't even know how to explain to Sam how he knew if there were vamps nearby. The only justification he could rationalize was all the years of hunting, learning, stalking, listening, and sensing the presence of other beings. Dean and his father hadn't encountered many vampires, but then those hadn't been particularly old vamps. Not old enough to leave behind a psychic trace.

And when Dean did go over to Sam's laptop, he realized the unit had gone into hibernation. Pushing the power button, the screen came to life. There was only one webpage open in the browser. It was a map and directions site, showing Dean how to get to the conference room of a place in _this_ city called The Necropolis.

_Shit_.

He logged offline, and as he was about to shut down the system, he noticed there was a word processing document icon in the middle of the screen. The filename was "Dean." Using the touchpad, Dean navigated the mouse over to the icon and opened the document. There was one word.

_Run._

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered to the computer, deleting the document. He shut down the laptop, unplugged it and put it into the backpack. Strap over one shoulder, he went up to the counter to find out how much he owed.

The kid at the counter checked the computer, and in a puzzled voice said,

"I don't have anything in here, so there's no charge then."

"Thanks." Dean smiled at him, and he was out the door.

* * *

_This_ Necropolis was still in the business district. It was on the other side of the business park from the internet café. Dean could have walked. He drove. He needed his car. More accurately, he needed what was _in_ his car. 

He parked around the side of the building. There was a nice-size parking lot for what looked like a normal bar for cruising on a Friday or Saturday night. _Don't let that deceive you_, Dean thought bitterly. _These vamps have Sam_, the elder Winchester told himself. _They mean business. And __**she**__ still wants you_. Dean sobered at that thought.

_She_ was supposed to have been dead. He and Sam killed her. Burned the body, disposed of it in a dumpster. _She was powerful_, Dean acknowledged. And she had powerful friends. And powerful meant deadly. Which meant to be prepared.

Getting out the car, he opened the trunk and selected his arsenal. A crossbow, a shotgun loaded with rock salt, holy water and a cross which he put in his inside coat pocket… and a form of powdered tetrodotoxin he called zombie powder that he'd managed to "borrow" when he was in New Orleans. Dean's faith in the plan was starting to waver. But _they_ had Sam. Dean knew what _they_ really wanted. He put the powder in his jeans pocket.

Resolved, he closed the trunk and headed for the conference room in the Necropolis.

The bar wasn't yet open for business, although it was 8 p.m. at night. Entering the new building, Dean could still smell fresh paint and carpet. There was a sign reading "Conference Room" pointing up a set of stairs.

_Oh, this was too easy._

He stopped outside the conference room door, and quietly propped the shotgun against the wall next to the side of the door with the hinges. Gathering and focusing his thoughts, he reached into his pocket, and withdrew a small pinch of the powder. He sprinkled it his eyes.

Blinking rapidly, he wiped his sleeve over his eyelids and face. He only had at least 15 minutes; 20 at the most. He hoped things would go smoothly. He hoped Sam wouldn't screw it up. He hoped… At this point, there was no choice _but_ for it to go right. Gripping the crossbow, Dean tapped on the door. Not hearing a reply, he turned the knob and opened the door towards him.

Having to go around the door to enter was awkward. There were only three people in the conference room, although there was a door in the far wall. The lights were dimmed, and he could barely see Sam sitting on a chair, looking dreamily at the ceiling.

Dean went to his side, but the two bodyguards who had escorted Sam from the internet café didn't let Dean get too close.

"Sammy, I'm here," his voice was hoarse.

Entranced, Sam stopped staring at the ceiling, and slowly moved his head and gaze towards his brother.

"Sam. It's Sam," he said, dreamily.

"Sam," Dean urged, "you gotta snap out of it!" Dean reached out with his free hand and tapped Sam's cheeks. His eyes were glazed over. Having been enthralled by a vampire, Sam would remember none of it when he was released from the trance.

The far door opened, and Dean saw a woman enter. She was wearing white – Dean remembered that much. But as soon as she was close enough for Dean to see her wispy gown of many sheer layers, he felt himself falling under her enchantment.

_Get a grip_, he told himself. Which he did, on his crossbow. He grabbed it so hard, one of the metal protrusions dug into his skin. He almost pulled back in pain, but realized that it broke the thrall. He kept his hand where it was, and kept gripping tighter when he felt himself giving in again.

Maya was now in front of him, but he could still see his brother. She reached out and slowly, seductively stroked his cheek. His body wanted to give in to her, and Dean fought it with every ounce of his will power.

"Join me, Dean Winchester," she said, her mouth very close to his. "You and your brother. We need you both."

Dean squeezed the crossbow. He didn't want to draw blood, that would draw Maya's attention to the weapon. He wanted her to think she was in control. And would be so easy to give into her. Just release the weapon, give into her temptations. He'd been enthralled once by the beautiful vampire, it would be just as easy to let it happen again.

"No," he said softly. He needed Maya to believe he was entranced by her. It would work much better that way. "Release Sam."

"Not the plan, my sweet," she said, nipping at his lips, and touching his body seductively with hers.

"Release Sam," Dean said, his voice stronger now that he tightened his grip on the crossbow still. "You can have me, just let Sam go."

Maya stood still a moment, and then waved at the two bodyguards. They each took one step away from Sam, who gasped as he came out the enthrallment, noticed his surroundings, and then realized what was happening.

"Dean!" he tried to stand up. The bodyguards put out their hands, and Sam was blocked. "Get out of here, Dean!"

"What say you, Dean Winchester?" Maya cooed, again leaning herself against him.

"Fair trade. Me for Sam. Sam walks out of here."

"Dean! No!" Sam could not believe he was hearing his brother say this. No, he _wouldn't_. Dean would _not_ trade himself for his brother.

But apparently he just did, because Sam was able to stand up with ease. The guards were escorting him past Dean. Maya's fangs were bared, and she was kissing Dean's neck, reveling in the heartbeat she heard under the skin. In the moment Sam passed him, he heard Dean say two quiet whispered words.

"_Do it_._"_

Once Sam was at the door, Dean dropped the crossbow. Maya picked her head up and turned her golden gaze on Dean. Completely under Maya's enthrallment, he kissed her passionately. He closed his eyes, knowing what was to come.

Sam turned at the door.

"Dean – " his voice trailed off. His brother had done it. Crossed the line completely. _Damn him_, Sam thought. He opened the door, went through the doorway, and closed the door behind him without looking back.

Grabbing the shotgun from where Dean left it for him, Sam flung open the door again, and cocked the gun. Maya pulled her lips away from Dean's to hiss at him, her passion interrupted. Dean was starting to wilt in her arms – the effect of the zombie powder – but he tried to remain standing, if only for a moment. Clumsily, he turned so Sam could see him.

Maya saw and felt only Sam's fury, and then heard the bang. There was smoke as the shotgun discharged, but when it cleared, Sam was gone and the door was closed again.

Sam Winchester was quicker than a vampire. Maya had no time to react. She looked at Dean, who was dead weight in her arms now. She sagged to the floor under his weight.

Sam had _shot_ his brother.

Maya heard the slowing heartbeat. She lowered Dean gently to the rugged floor of the conference room, and tried to cover his abdomen with the torn pieces of his shirt, a very human response. She could no longer hear his heartbeat. Maya was very still for a moment.

She had planned to take her revenge on the brothers by bringing them in to the vampire community. It would have been then she would have told them that they were the ones who'd killed Brennan. Now, one brother had killed the other – for what?

_No matter_, she thought. _I __**will**__ have one Winchester, one way or another_. She stood up, still looking at Dean, so young with his eyes closed. _He could have stayed this young forever_, Maya thought regretfully.

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, raised her head, and turned to the two guards.

"After him," she whispered.

They left through the same door Sam had used.

Maya stayed a moment longer. She knelt down again, and kissed Dean on his soft lips, and sighed against him. Gathering her tumultuous feelings together, she left the room by the far door.

* * *

The first thing Dean was aware of was the blinding white light stabbing into his eyes. He vaguely remembered Sam prodding him to wake up, stand up, something like that. It was all a blur. 

The next thing Dean remembered was the nausea, and the pain. And that bright light again. He tried to sit up, keep his insides in, and remembered to breathe. His head felt like someone drove over it _with_ his car. Dean remembered Sam trying to get him to drink a glass of cold water. Dean remembered moving. Maybe he was _in_ the car.

Eventually, Dean came around enough to realize Sam had checked them in a motel somewhere. He was slowly getting his strength back. _Being dead takes a lot out of you_, he thought wryly, and attempted a chuckle.

The sound brought a concerned look from Sam, who sat at the shabby desk in the room surfing the internet via a hacked connection. Dean was trying to sit up, and Sam went to his side to try to help his brother.

Dean pushed Sam away. He tried to speak, realized his voice wasn't responding, and cleared his throat.

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean said, sitting up by himself. Sam smiled. Dean was back.

Dean swung his legs over the edge of the bed, but did not attempt to stand yet. He still wore the shirt torn by the rock salt, and pulled it off over his head. Lingering on the fabric was Maya's scent. He balled up the shirt, buried his face in it, and breathed. Even just her scent was powerful.

Sam watched Dean curiously. Sam himself had been in Maya's thrall, but only for a short time. Dean had succumbed to Maya was ready to give himself to her completely. Nothing would have mattered to him at that point.

Choking back what Sam guessed was a sob, Dean flung the shirt across the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, for a full minute.

When he picked his head up again, he shakily stood, and slowly hobbled over to his duffel bag he'd seen on one of the dressers. He looked through it, and found a reasonably clean black t-shirt. He pulled it on, and turned to Sam.

"Sorry, man," he said.

Sam, who had still been watching his brother, took a moment before replying.

"Why did you even do it, Dean? Why?"

"It had to be done." Dean was thinking about how he deceived a vampire – a master vampire at that – into thinking he was dead. It was a good thing she hadn't stayed with him. Or that she ordered his body burned. He shuddered at that thought.

"No, it didn't," Sam said, hurt in his voice. He was referring to Dean trading himself for Sam. In a rare moment, the brothers had said they'd die for each other, die before Evil claimed one of them. And Dean had violated that.

"Whoa, wait," Dean said, realizing by his brother's tone they were talking about two different things.

"You didn't have to give yourself to her!" Sam fairly shouted.

"She wanted _me_!"

"She wanted us _both_! Or were you so far out of it, that you _missed_ that part?" Sam shot back.

Dean was silent. _Damn it, but Sam was_ right. When he finally spoke, his voice was tired.

"Sorry – shouldn't have brought it up." Dean grabbed the other chair and sat at the desk nearby the laptop.

"Whatcha got?" Dean asked, abruptly changing the subject. He didn't want to get into the remorse he felt, watching Sam leave, pissed at his brother. They both knew their Code, and Dean wasn't about to admit he'd knowingly broken it. He'd learned not to be open and honest all the time. The times he was, it had blown up in his face.

"Couple of things," Sam said. "While you were still, uhm, recovering, I went back and talked to Trevor again. He's started the construction, and claims to have no recollection of us being there to see him, or about the angry spirits, or anything. Claims he never even called us here."

"Sam, how long have I been out of it?"

"Three days," was Sam's soft answer. Dean was quiet a moment, thinking. He got up, and went over to his bag again, and retrieved their father's journal. Sitting down again, he leafed through it, looking for what John Winchester had recorded about vampires.

"What's on your mind, Dean?" Sam asked, glad that Dean was back to his right self again.

"Vampires. The most powerful can hypnotize with their gaze. I'm thinking that Trevor was hypnotized, and was told to tell us that story. What happened right after we talked to him?"

"You went back to talk to Trevor and the bank people, and I went to the internet café…" Sam recounted. "We were separated. Maya did it on purpose," Sam said. "She used me as bait to get to you."

"Yeah," Dean said, not sounding happy. "But I'm sure once she had me, she wasn't going to let you go. I'd like to think something changed her mind. Something that wasn't just me."

"She's a powerful vampire, Dean, she can do and have whatever she wants. And she's not going to stop just cause you died once."

"But she thinks I'm dead. She's gonna come after _you_ now. As I see it, she thinks _you_ killed me. I'm just guessing here, but she went after me first, thinking if she turned me, I could convince you to join me." Dean grimaced. "I don't think she counted on how strong we are. Or that I would outsmart her."

"If she's as smart as all that, I'm sure by now she's figured out you pulled a fast one on her," Sam pointed out. Dean was quiet a moment, thinking.

"You said you had a couple of things to tell me?" he asked his brother.

"We covered the other thing already – Maya."

"Ah," Dean nodded, and returned to the journal. After a couple more pages, he closed the little leather book. "Dad and I never encountered any master vamps. All we ever got were their minions."

Sam sighed. He looked back at the laptop and clicked on a few links and entered some information in a search engine. He had no idea what he was even looking for. He did find the floor plans for the Necropolis on a site, which he bookmarked.

"How much do you remember, Sam?" Dean asked. "From the time Maya's guys took you."

"Not a whole hell of a lot," Sam admitted.

"What if we went back there – " Dean started to say.

"That place is crawling with vampires, Dean! And we can surmise that they're after me. I had a hell of a time getting back in there to get you out! And those stairs were a killer. Don't ever – " Sam fixed his brother with a glare, " – make me kill you again!"

Dean chuckled. "Not anytime soon," he said.

Sam was silent as he surfed the internet, but then pulled up a webpage and froze.

"Uh, Dean? I think I know why Maya was more persistent this time." He turned the laptop so Dean could see the picture of Maya, and a man named Brennan.

"Oh, crap," Dean said, when he read the caption.

"That's the vamp we burned the day before we talked to Trevor, Dean. Maya _knew_ it was us." He started to turn the computer back towards him, but Dean stopped him.

"Did you look at the date on this archive picture?" he asked, and Sam leaned in to see the screen.

"1897," Sam read, and gave a low whistle. "Vamps just don't leave an internet trail like that. They're very careful about when and how they're photographed – if ever."

"We are so screwed, Sammy."

Sam wasn't paying attention. "Dean, she wanted us to find this picture. She knew it was us who killed him, and she wanted us to find this. No," he thought for a moment. "She wanted _me_ to find the picture. Three days ago, she thought I killed you. She's trying to tell me something. But what?"

"To back off?" Dean suggested. _Where the __**hell**__ had that thought come from?_

"_Back off_? Dean, she's a vampire, thousands of years old. She's not just going to '_back off_.'"

"Whoa, easy there, Sam. We'll think of something. We always do. But for now," Dean sighed, and seemed to slump in his chair. "we're the ones who have to back off for now." At Sam's shocked expression, Dean repeated himself.

"For now, Sammy. _For now_."

* * *

Maya needed a breather. She was hostess that night at the Necropolis, the night Sam had shot his brother, but her mind was elsewhere. It was upstairs in the conference room where those horrific events had taken place. After the fruitless search for Sam Winchester, Maya still could not bring herself to go up there. Neither would she allow anyone else. 

That was her mistake. She _needed_ to go up there, and her humanity – what was still left of it, she supposed – compelled her too. She was surprised at that, as old as she was, there still was any kind of human response in her. Was this what young blood did to her? What young, virile men, like Dean Winchester, made her feel? Her humanity?

Calling over another vampire, one who in life was young, blonde and buxom, she left Martinique in her place, and exited the main room. Out in the entry way, filled with vampire and human clubbers alike, Maya wound her way through the crowd to the stairs. She removed the chain that hung there, went around and replaced the chain.

Silently she went up the steps. She had no way to know that the very person she was searching for had walked this very path while Maya was just inside the club.

Once on the second floor, she paused outside the door. What was she listening for, a heartbeat? She'd heard it stop before. Without her blood, there was no way she could bring Dean Winchester back to her.

Steeling herself, she opened the door.

"_No_!" she screamed in rage at what she saw. Dean was gone. And in that instant, she _knew_. She knew Sam had been there, Dean had set this whole damn thing up. _She_ was the one who was the easy mark now. _She'd_ been hustled.

She knelt down on the place where Dean had lain just a few hours before, and did something else that was very human. She grieved; and wept.

* * *

Sam woke up from a fitful sleep the next morning to hear Dean moving around the small motel room. 

"What are you doing, Dean? It's – " he picked up his cell phone and flipped it open, " – seven in the morning."

"We're leaving."

_That_ woke Sam up. He sat up in bed and glared at his brother.

"We're _what_?"

"Leaving, Sam. That's not too hard to understand."

"Yeah, it is, Dean. She's powerful. And we _need_ to stop her.

"You see what happened last time we tried that! She _is_ powerful!"

"Too powerful for the mighty Dean Winchester, apparently," Sam said.

Dean was uncharacteristically quiet.

"We're leaving," he repeated.

Sam watched Dean look through his duffel bag for about the tenth time when something dawned on him.

"She got to you, didn't she?" Sam asked, awed.

Dean looked up at the mirror. "What? Who did?" he asked.

"_She_ did. _Maya_."

"No, she didn't." Dean picked up the shirt that had been shot with the rock salt.

"Dean, we kill vamps. We _stop_ evil. We don't give into it."

Dean stood at the dresser, still holding the shirt, listening to Sam. _Sammy __**always**__ had to talk about it, didn't he?_

"Holy shit," Sam realized. "She _did_ get to you!"

Dean whirled around and hurled the shirt at Sam.

"So what if she did?!" he accused. Dean grabbed his bag and stalked out of the motel room to wait for his brother in the car.

Sam sat a moment in stunned silence before grabbing his own duffel bag and following Dean out the door.

Maya had felt Dean's presence two days after she'd found the empty conference room. Now, two days later, she felt his presence leave again.

But she smiled. _He'll be back_, she told herself. He'd come back to her soon.

"You're walking halfway in  
But crawling halfway out  
There's a void in your mind  
That you cling to.  
You feel lost in time,  
You've got no words to rhyme  
No more charms, no more spells to protect you…"

* * *

Supernatural Fan Fiction  
For entertainment only  
© 2006 by Trystan  
Only Maya, Brennan, Trevor Robinson, the bodyguards, the Necropolis, and Martinique are original. Beta-read by Diamondback and Athena. Various ideas by Diamondback. Dean, Sam and John Winchester were created by Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, Kripke Enterprises Scrap Metal and Entertainment; and Warner Brothers. "I'm Alive" from "Ten Thousand Fists" by Disturbed ©2005. "No Sanctuary" from "The Warning" by Queensryche ©1984. 


End file.
